


a kitchen sink and idle hands

by extremelyquestionable (TechnicalTragedy)



Category: The Derp Crew (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Denial, M/M, Self-Denial, Slurs, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4169634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicalTragedy/pseuds/extremelyquestionable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even broken things have worth, sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a kitchen sink and idle hands

**Author's Note:**

> one of my older ones, yes, but one i really do connect with, being ace myself.
> 
> this one goes out to everybody who feels they can't be who they are, who feels invisible or like they have to hide.
> 
> you aren't broken.

Steven was asexual. Buried beneath the desperate sleeping around, constant denial, thoughts of being broken, and midnight crises, Steven was asexual. He’d been told all his life that he was wrong about it, that asexuality wasn’t real and he just hadn’t met the right person. It was better to have a gay or straight son than an asexual son, because an asexual son was a broken son; it was better to have a gay son because if he’d been gay, they could try and fix that, but no one could fix something that just wasn’t there.

So Steven had buried it, buried it all. He’d overcompensated for his identity by throwing meaningless sex over it, suffocated in all the bullshit he surrounded himself with. If he was a sex-crazy animal who brought home a different person every night, they could call him a slut, a whore, whatever, but at least he wasn’t broken. As long as he was like everyone else, he wasn’t broken like they’d always said he was.

He’d tried relationships, but eventually they’d want sex, and that wasn’t something he wanted to do. When he told them, they reacted negatively, almost every time. “Oh, so you’ll put out for all those random people, but you won’t fuck the person you’re dating? That’s fucked up, you’re fucked up,” was the gist of what was usually said. They’d break up soon after, if not right then, and Steven would go right back to his unhappy lifestyle.

Steven’s life was cyclical misery and brief peace, and he’d spent so long denying himself he wasn’t even sure who he was anymore, but his core resonated with his identity, and a lifetime spent bottling and burying would eventually result in something escaping, even if it had to crawl out on its hands and knees.

\- - -

“You know, you’re weird, for someone who broadcasts themselves as a slut,” John mentioned one day when they were at his apartment for pizza night, chewing absently at his food and staring at Steven.

“Thanks, asshole,” Steven said with a scowl, flipping him the bird.

“No, no, I don’t mean it in an offensive way. I’m trying to express my concern for you, as your friend,” he corrected, an apologetic twist to his lips.

Steven rolled his eyes. “You’re doing a great job of that, starting off with calling me a slut.”

John sighed. “Alright, let me start over. For someone with such a, well, active lifestyle, you don’t seem to actually enjoy sex much.”

“What do you mean by that? Am I not being a slut correctly?” Steven teased, but John heard the underlying seriousness.

“I don’t think there’s a strict definition for what a slut is. But typically it’s someone who has a lot of sex, but enjoys it. You don’t really look like you enjoy it, ever,” John said. “It’s kinda weird to me. I mean, my friend Anthony is a lot like you, always jumping from one bed to the next, but when you do it, it seems a little, I don’t know, forced?”

Steven sighed, leaning back to try and appear bored, hoping it wasn’t obvious how tense the conversation was making him. “So your friend Anthony is a slut, too. Huh, maybe we should get together and go scope out some choice dick.”

John gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Don’t be so fucking facetious with me right now, I’m trying to be serious here.”

Steven chuckled, his head dipping backwards before he pushed himself off the back of the couch again to lean forward. “Look, if you’re really worried, I’ll let you know right now that I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I appreciate your concern, but everything is perfectly okay.”

John scowled at him. “You know, I’ve been your friend for quite a while, Steven. I can’t tell when you’re lying. I also know that when you say ‘everything’s fine’ you never, ever mean it.” They stared at each other for a few tense seconds, before John sighed and looked away, rubbing at his eyes before meeting Steven’s again. “You know you can tell me about your problems, right? Friends are supposed to trust each other. I told you all about when I was exploring my sexuality and shit, man. You’ve been with me for years, through thick and thin. Let me be here for you.”

Steven’s hard gaze softened, and then he was the one unable to look at John, rubbing idly at the back of his neck. “I, um,” he said, but that’s all he could get out before the lump in his throat choked him. He swallowed and leveled his gaze at a lamp across the room. “It’s kind of a shitty story, and I don’t wanna ruin pizza night.”

John harrumphed, settling back against the couch and adopting a welcoming, open expression. “We both know pizza night is also known as feels night. Spill the beans, Steve,” he said.

Steven swallowed again, hand on his neck coming down to lace with the other. He felt all the buried shit unearthing itself, and he figured this would be the best time to let it. He took a deep breath, and began telling John the things he’d never even let himself think about for years.

\- - -

“Ever tried to count the stars?” Steven’s first girlfriend had asked him one night when they lay in her backyard, staring up at the sky.

Steven had chuckled, glanced over at her, but found she wasn’t even looking at him, so he’d returned his gaze to the little pinpricks of light dancing far above his head. “I think everyone has tried at least once,” he answered.

Her fingers had tightened around his, and he’d looked at her questioningly. She had been wearing a smile, and Steven had wanted to stay in that moment forever, holding this girl’s hand underneath a sky fill of stars.

“We’re not alone,” she’d whispered to him, and it had taken Steven a minute to understand that she meant planetary-wise, and not that there was someone else in her backyard.

“It’s statistically unlikely, yeah,” he had agreed, and she’d rolled her head to kiss his shoulder.

“I don’t want to have sex with you,” she’d said quietly after a long period of silence.

Steven had blinked at her, and she’d given him a look that said she thought she’d just messed everything up. “I don’t want to have sex, either,” he’d replied, truthfully.

She’d sighed like he was particularly thick-skulled, and elaborated, “I don’t think I ever want to have sex with you. Not just you, though. Anyone. I don’t like the idea of sex. I’m not supposed to tell people that, though. Mom says it makes me sound weird.”

Steven had nodded. “I know what you mean, and I feel the same way. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, either.”

They’d stared at each other, a little surprised, but had ended up smiling at their shared secret and losing themselves in the galactic light show overhead.

Steven had always looked back at that memory fondly, because that had been the first time he’d realized that he wasn’t, in fact, alone. That had been the longest and happiest relationship he’d ever had, and when they had ended up going to colleges across the country, they’d decided it would be for the best if they broke up. Steven would never forget that girl, though, with her freckles like the stars she dreamed of.

\- - -

Anthony was rough around the edges, but had a soft center, Steven learned soon after meeting him. He had first come across as some twitchy asshole, but soon it became apparent that he was more akin to a melted Peeps marshmallow candy. It was an odd analogy, but one that seemed to represent him.

John had introduced them a couple of weeks after Steven had revealed his big secret, a couple of weeks after that pervasive silence and then a quiet, “Holy shit, dude. That fucking sucks.” He’d introduced them by bringing Anthony to pizza night.

“So, what do we do on pizza night?” Anthony asked through a mouthful of pepperoni.

John wrinkled his nose. “We don’t talk with our mouths full, you fucking heathen.”

Anthony rolled his eyes and waved a hand, swallowing pointedly after a few moments of chewing. “Fine. What do we do on pizza night? Literally just eat pizza?”

Steven shrugged. “Sometimes we watch movies or play video games, too.”

“But that sounds really fucking lame,” Anthony whined.

John frowned. “You’re really fucking lame. We basically just have pizza night to keep Steven from whoring himself out to too many people.”

Steven groaned. “Shut the fuck up, John. I’ve stopped sleeping around, you know that.” It was true. Ever since he’d told John about his asexuality, he hadn’t slept with a single person since. He’d never really enjoyed the sex anyway, so it wasn’t that big of a deal for him to quit cold turkey. He still occasionally felt that urge at the back of his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch, but if he didn’t focus on it, it went away. Sometimes.

Anthony looked over at Steven curiously. “Sleeping around?” He then cut a sharp glare back at John. “Wait, is this you trying to do the same thing to me?”

John sighed. “Anthony, I invited you so you could meet Steven. You’re my two closest friends, and just because both of you are total man-whores and I’m worried about both of you doesn’t mean I’d invite you to pizza night just to keep you from sleeping with someone.”

Anthony squinted at him suspiciously, but nodded slowly. “It wouldn’t work anyway. My goal is to get into Steven’s pants by the end of the night.” He turned a grin to Steven, who put his palms up in between them as if to hold him back.

“I’m trying to get out of that kinda life, man,” Steven said, quirking a corner of his mouth. “So I’d really rather not. Maybe if instead you wanted to go on a date or something, but I won’t jump right into your bed.”

Anthony chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t do dating. So I’ll have to decline that.”

Steven parted his fingers in a kind of shrug, folding his hands in his lap. “Seems we’re at an impasse, then.”

Anthony met his eyes for a few moments. “Guess we are,” he agreed, and looked back at John, who’d been watching the exchange curiously.

“Who wants to watch a movie?” Steven asked, pulling his hands apart to pat his knees as he rose to his feet.

They agreed on King Kong, and no-one mentioned it for the rest of the evening.

\- - -

“Look, I’ve gotta tell you something, Anthony,” Steven said months later. He’d been thinking about telling Anthony about his asexuality for a while, but had only fully decided to do it as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Anthony raised an eyebrow at him, sensing his seriousness, and paused the movie they’d been watching. “What’s up, buddy?”

Steven bit his lip, and turned more towards his friend. “I, uh, we’ve known each other for a while, so I think it’s time I tell you something.” He let out a puff of air, knowing this wasn’t as big of a deal as it felt like it was. “I’m asexual,” he finally said, and closed his eyes, waiting for whatever Anthony’s reaction would be.

“You’re asexual? But weren’t you a huge slut a while ago, or something? What changed your mind?” Anthony asked.

Steven glared at him. “Just because I’m asexual doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t have sex. Nothing ‘changed my mind,’ I’ve always been asexual, even when I was fucking somebody I was asexual.”

Anthony’s brow creased in confusion, “But I thought asexuals-“

“Well, asexual here, and I’m telling you that, whatever you thought, you’re wrong,” Steven interrupted, curling his lip at his friend. “I’m asexual, I have had copious amounts of sex, but I never really wanted to. It was kinda just always expected of me. When I came out as asexual to my family, they all denied it and told me there was ‘no way you could be that broken.’ I won’t have that shit from you.”

Anthony exposed his palms to Steven, something that had become a sign of trust and reassurance between them over the course of the year or so they’d known each other. “You won’t get any of that from me, Steven. I promise. I just, I guess I’m just uninformed. I’d like to know, though. I’d like to understand. I’m not, uh, I hope I’m not like your family.”

Steven nodded. “Alright, I know you aren’t. I’ll tell you about, yeah? So you don’t sound like such an ignorant piece of shit.”

Anthony grinned easily, nodding back at Steven and putting his hands down. “Yeah, please do.”

So Steven sat down and told Anthony everything he could, answered all his questions, and even answered some he didn’t want to ask. When there were no more questions to be asked or answered, they went back to watching their movie as if nothing had happened, and Steven felt a little bit less like he was suffocating.

“You’re not broken,” Anthony said before they parted ways that night, seriousness set into every line of his face.

Steven forced a smile. “Yeah,” he breathed, and closed the door. Though he didn’t believe Anthony’s words, he slept easier that night, knowing someone thought he wasn’t messed up.

\- - -

It was even more obvious that Anthony was overcompensating than it was that he was a mushy marshmallow. Seeing as how Steven had lived that same life, he knew what it looked like when you were trying too hard. Steven also knew how liberating it was to get the weight you were carrying off of your shoulders.

“What’s wrong, Anthony?” Steven asked one day when he had him cornered in their little shared apartment.

Anthony blinked at him in confusion. “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.”

Steven gave him a stern look. “Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m talking about. Something’s up with you, it’s really weighing on you. I want to know what it is.”

Anthony looked away, letting out a chuckle that sounded just a little too high-pitched to be real. “I really don’t know what you mean, Steven.”

Steven sighed and stepped into Anthony’s personal space, leaning into his field of vision and meeting his eyes. “You can tell me anything, you know,” he said, and wondered if this was how John had felt all those years ago during pizza night.

Anthony frowned, and looked away. “Don’t worry about it, Steven,” he said quietly.

“Anthony-” Steven started.

“I said don’t fucking worry about it!” Anthony snapped, glaring at Steven.

Steven sighed, looking at Anthony sadly. “You’re one of my best friends, Anthony. I can’t just not worry about it.”

The tall man rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I know, I know. I’m sorry for, uh, that. It was uncalled for. I’m just not, um, not ready to talk about it, I guess.”

Steven held his hands out in front of him. “You can tell me anything,” he reiterated, and Anthony nodded.

“I’ll tell you. Eventually. Not yet. Not while I’m still, well, coming to terms with it, myself,” he said.

Steven spread his fingers out wide. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m willing to listen.”

Anthony nodded, then nodded again. “Yeah.” He ducked out of the room, and Steven let him go, wishing that Anthony would stop avoiding telling him about his problems.

\- - -

Almost three years later, Anthony told Steven while they were watching the stars.

“I love you,” he mentioned casually, smiling.

Steven smiled back, tender and happy. “I love you, too. Glad you finally admitted it, dipshit.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Dick.”

Steven flopped backwards to stare up at the stars. “I did this with my first girlfriend,” he said, and started idly counting the stars.

Anthony hummed. “Should I be worried?”

Steven shrugged, mentally cursing when he lost his place. “Nah. I think she was more interested in aliens than she was in me, really.”

“She was a smart girl, then,” Anthony decided.

“Asshole,” Steven said with a chuckle.

Anthony just smiled and reached down to hold Steven’s hand, pressing their palms together tightly. “I don’t think I want to have sex with you,” he said, and Steven was reminded even more or his first girlfriend and her constellation freckles.

“I’ve had enough sex to last a lifetime,” Steven agreed. “I wouldn’t mind cuddles, though. And more hand-holding. Maybe some kissing, too.”

Anthony squeezed his hand. “Same here, buddy. Oh, I forgot to ask, wanna be my boyfriend?”

Steven snorted. “According to John, we’re practically already married.”

“I guess he’s right. We have lived together for nearly five years, share basically everything, have seen each other naked-”

“We don’t talk about that, Anthony,” Steven quickly interjected, and his new boyfriend grinned over at him.

They sat in silence for a long while, just staring up at the sky together, and Steven absently touched the token on the chain around his neck. Anthony noticed the movement and smiled at him, placing his free palm over the little circle in the middle of Steven’s chest.

“I’m not broken,” Steven said, as if coming to a realization.

“You were never broken. Just like I was never wrong,” Anthony told him, putting pressure on the token.

Steven flattened his hand over Anthony’s. “You aren’t broken, either,” he said, and watched as Anthony swallowed, but nodded. “We all have our baggage, Anthony. I wanna help carry yours.”

Anthony nodded again, and then they went back to staring at the stars, hands laced together, feeling less like they were broken, and more like they were just two jagged halves of a whole.


End file.
